


Coming Together in Permutations of Four

by Friendie30



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/F, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, M/M, Multi, My headcanon that they all occasionally have sex and support each other, Romance, Set after Alanna series and spans Immortals and Protector of the Small, and provide each other with emotional intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friendie30/pseuds/Friendie30
Summary: Sometimes, all four of them have sex. More often than not, some combination of the four of them have sex; after all, they are rarely all in the same place at the same time, called away to their various duties. It’s not perfect, by any means; but it is them, and it is good.Or, four perspectives on a relationship between Thayet and Jon and Alanna and George, and an epiloque.
Relationships: Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau/George Cooper, Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau/Jonathan of Conté, Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau/Thayet jian Wilima, Alanna/Thayet/Jonathan/George, George Cooper/Jonathan of Conté, George Cooper/Thayet jian Wilima, Jonathan of Conté/Thayet jian Wilima
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	Coming Together in Permutations of Four

1.

Here is how it starts: Thayet and Jon have married. The wedding ceremony was long and boring, foreign dignitaries lining up to bow to the newly married couple, toast after toast after toast to the health of the kingdom and the birth of an heir. Still there were the dances, sweeping waltzes, Thayet's eyes holding his gaze, her warmth against his body even through the many layers of white dress and jewelry. He has composed odes to those eyes, and drawn paintings of that silhouette, but nothing will ever come close to comparing with her beauty. (And no, that has nothing to do with his artistic skill or lack thereof.) 

What keeps him going through the tedious conversations, the infinite handshakes and above all the stares, the whispers, the who does she think she is, this foreign chit, this princess with no kingdom, coming in when we have spent years vying for his hand, is the promise of that warmth, her breath against his neck and his long-awaited wedding night. 

The morning sun is warm and golden against Jon's eyelids, and Thayet is warm and soft under Jon's arm. For a moment he considers getting up, but getting up would require effort, and his body is relaxed and satisfied. He allows himself to drift in the contentment of his new marriage. 

The knock comes a few seconds later. 

"Thayet? Jon?" The voice is clearly Alanna's, although why she is calling his name so early in the morning is a mystery to him. Thayet rolls over, mumbling in her sleep, and the wave of fondness he feels surge through him is enough to make him get up, if only to spare her the unhappiness of being woken up so early. 

The door opens to reveal not only Alanna, but George too. 

"What are you doing here?" Jon asks, on the edge of rude but it is way too early in the morning to deal with people. Alanna at least has the good grace to look embarrassed - although whether that is because of the early hour or the fact that he is mostly naked he doesn't know. 

"Oh good, you're here!" The voice, soft and feminine, comes from behind Jon's back. Thayet is, apparently, awake, half sitting up with the sheet spilling of her shoulders. Again he can't help looking at her in awe, wondering how he ever had the good fortune to meet her, much less marry her. 

Alanna pushes past him, circling around the bed to where Thayet has lain back down. 

"You summoned us?" There's enough of an edge of irritation to the question to comfort Jon: clearly he's not the only one who thinks it's way too early for social calls. 

Thayet's only answer is to lift up the corner of the blanket and pat the side of the bed next to her. Jon and George stare at her blankly, but Alanna seems to understand all too well: shaking her head, she backs away from the bed. 

"Please?" Thayet cajoles, and that whole thing, her little eyebrow furrow, the vulnerable downturn of her lips, the way the word is all too soft and sad but with a tiny bit of hope lifting it up at the end, that right there is a weapon. Jon is relieved that he's not the only person who caves to that face immediately: Alanna sighs, and begins to remove her boots. 

Jon's not too sure when his wedding night turned into a morning where Thayet presses herself against Alanna's bare back, sighing in contentment and falling asleep once more, but. Well. It's rather difficult to be angry when faced with the sight of the only two women he has ever fallen in love with cuddling on his bed. 

"Well, our girls are obviously the smart ones, getting some sleep while we men hover in the doorway. What do you say we follow their example?" George's suggestion seems sound enough, so Jon steps back from the doorway and lies back down on the bed. George strips. Jon can't help noticing the scars that stand out pale and raised on his body. 

"Bit hard getting to be king without some nicks and scratches here and there." George catches his eye and grins. The flash of white teeth and sparkle in his hazel eyes are contagious, so Jon smiles back over the guilt. There's no point in dwelling on the past. Nothing he can do to restore George's throne now. 

George slides into bed, and Jon is surrounded by the people he loves, all together on a single bed. Thayet, soft and feminine, faint traces of her perfume still lingering on her body, on his left, George, with his slightly too-large nose and the familiar features he has memorized over years of friendship, on his right. Alanna, lying next to Thayet, the woman he loves but could never marry, could never have domesticated, should never have even dreamed of domesticating; who grew up with him, learned about love with him, brought his wife home to him. 

There is a kingdom waiting for him to run it. There are prisoners to deal with, noblemen to punish, laws to change. Repairs of the damage from his coronation are still underway. But all that can wait. For now, Jon sleeps. 

* * *

2.

It occurs to George only when they’re both naked that this should seem strange. Instead he finds himself wondering why they’ve never done this before. It’s natural to be around each other like this, even though the only times they’ve been naked together before now have been with Alanna and Thayet there too. Looking back, it seems like there were so many times when this could have happened; nights they would stay late at the tavern, Jon making friends and learning to be someone other than just Prince Jonathan, George attending to other affairs but checking in on him once in awhile. His court hiding their grins, even if he could still hear their lecherous speculations in the corner. 

He knows what it looked like, him bringing Jonathan around. Jonathan even just barely out of adolescence was undeniably handsome, with his piercing blue eyes and dark hair, frame nicely filled out from knight training. The constant glances in his direction didn’t help, nor did the way Jonathan turned to him for guidance or just to grin rakishly at him, triumphant in his successes. 

Of course, the worst was the time when Jon arrived at the Dancing Dove late, panting from exertion. He’d just barely managed to get away after finishing his responsibilities before the guard changed over, and he was still dressed like a noble. There’d been no other alternative: George had lent him some clothes. Coming out of George’s room, dressed in George’s clothes, still a little rumpled and red from running from the palace, Jon looked more than ever like George had just had his way with him. 

Honestly, George isn’t sure if it would have been better or worse if they’d assumed he was sleeping with Alan. Which, of course, they’d done too, with the way he’d invite her up to his room for private conversations, and his own lingering gazes as she grew older. 

He knows why it never happened, back then. Both of them had been too wrapped up in their feelings for Alanna to notice the possibility. She was a flame, growing brighter by the day, strong and passionate and beautiful, and they had never been able to tear their gazes off of her for long enough to look around. Of course, Jon had had that fling with Delia, but mostly as a substitute for Alanna, and in the hopes that it would make her jealous. Which, well, it did, slightly, but mostly it just irritated her, and he’d had to put up with quite a few angry rants about it as a result. 

That had been a bad time all around. First Delia, with the complaining and mood swings from both Jon and Alanna, who’d apparently decided he was next-best confidant; then the war with Tusaine, driving him mad with worry about the both of them, and even though he knew they were trained knights, there was a huge difference between a nobles’ duel and pitched battle. Then he’d heard their camp had been attacked, and Alanna had been unconscious for three days, and he couldn’t  _ do anything _ , helplessly far away in the capital. Worst of all was when he’d heard she was kidnapped, and Jon had decided to mount a crazy rescue plan to get her back. Fortunately it had been quick enough that he’d learned of their success at the same time as the venture itself, or he might have given himself a stroke with worry. And then on top of all that, the heartache of knowing she had chosen Jon over him to cap off a mad year of hope and worry, love and jealousy and anger.

Sometimes, even now, he feels that same streak of competition flare up against Jon. Sometimes, the anger washes over him, that Jon had believed he could choose her life for her, control her, and that he’d  _ hurt her _ . He can still remember with perfect clarity the day she’d shown up at his house in Port Caynn, taken one step towards him, and burst into tears. Even though they’ve matured since then, moved away from that past and those past selves, he’s not sure he can ever forgive Jon for making Alanna cry. He’d had her love, he’d had it with so little effort, and he’d thrown it all away.

But George and Alanna are married now, and they, Thayet, and Jon are in this rather unorthodox relationship, and the past is in the past. It swirls up inside him still, a tight knot of love and jealousy and kinship for this man before him. This is the man who understood like him the struggles and rewards of being a king, of bearing responsibility for people who looked to him for guidance. This is the man who loved his wife. This is the man he’d taught to gamble, had laughed with and drunk with and taken to meet his mother. This is the man he gave up his throne for, the man he’d pledged allegiance to as loyal vassal. 

Jon beckons, naked, beautiful, lounging on the bed, and George goes. 

* * *

3.

The sex after the siege is desperate, needy. George clings to Thayet, needs to feel her alive,  _ there _ . Her grasp is equally tight, and if the place where Alanna should be is an aching hole, a constant reminder of what they both still stand to lose, neither of them mention it. In the aftermath, they lie quiet, Thayet carding her fingers through George’s hair. If occasionally her hand shakes, spasms, pulls his hair a bit too hard, he says nothing. She says nothing of the way he tilts his head away, makes the tug harder, more painful. She is here, he is here, they are alive.

Later, he retreats to his office, to stare blankly at reports of casualties. He has dipped his quill in the inkwell, but sits immobile, hunched over. The quill drips ink onto the paper. She opens her mouth to reassure him, but the words won’t come, blocked by the same knot of relief, anxiety, and grief that is keeping him bound and still. She retreats to reassure herself that her children are still alive.

She finds them in the nursery, huddled together. Even the younger ones are quiet, dolls discarded on the floor. She hugs each of them. Thank the Goddess for Daine. Without her, her children would be... She would be... She doesn't even want to think about it. She hugs them both a bit tighter, her perfect, beautiful children. They endure it for a bit longer, before wiggling out of her grip. 

"Mama, may we please go see Daine?" Kalasin asks, and though her tone is one of calm befitting the royal princess, she knows her daughter enough to recognize the worry in her eyes. Her brother is silent, but he too looks ready to plead with her. 

She sighs. Daine was still unconscious, and, according to the healers, in a state of magical exhaustion it would take her at least a couple of days to recover from. Still, if it made her children feel better... 

"Yes, you may." 

Ronald and Kalasin both give small sounds of relief before hugging her and rushing off. Well. At least they remembered themselves well enough not to run. And she knows that desperation well enough herself. She sighs again. Checking up on George will probably not reassure her, but at least it is something to do, something to quiet the restlessness inside her...

One of George's men runs up to her, panting. 

"Message for you, Your Majesty," he tells her. "The Lioness' company was sighted on the road. Lady Alanna is alive."

A bright feeling bursts inside her, leaving her feeling light and giddy enough to laugh. She barely remembers to thank the messenger. Suddenly, she knows just how hard it is not to run.

George is already at the gate, looking hungrily at the road. He turns to her and and flashes a smile, the most genuine smile she’s seen on his face for… well, a long time. They stand and watch the road in silence, but it’s no longer the silence of unsaid words, it’s the silence of excited anticipation.

The sound of hooves on the ground reaches them before they can see anything. They squint, hands edging together to touch. The warm feeling is spreading. She can finally see them now, a small dark spot far away at first, growing larger with every moment, until she can finally make out a figure on a gold and black horse. The chain mail, normally washed bright gold, is dusty and dull, but the red hair is unmistakable. Thayet’s face hurts from smiling.

Finally they are at the gate, past the gate, and the world devolves into bright laughter and shouts of joy. Even the edge of desperation in her embrace just makes the world brighter, sharper. Alanna is covered in dirt and stinks of sweat and she is  _ alive _ and she is utterly beautiful. George sweeps her up in an embrace. Thayet knows she should let go of them, that the pretense of friendship can only go so far to cover propriety, but she can’t bring her fists to unclench from their clothes, even as the embrace turns into a kiss, lips smiling against each other.

The children arrive, and the scene becomes even more chaotic, the twins leaping up onto their mother, small fists waving, chattering wildly. Even Thom barely managed to stop himself from throwing himself bodily at his mother.

“It was scary-”

“There was a kraken, Mama, you should’ve seen the kraken, it was  _ huge _ -”

“Numair made this giant cloud-”

Alanna laughs, her hair fiery in the sun as she turns, children swinging off her arms, screaming gleefully. 

“One at a time, please,” she says. “And some food. Travel rations can only satisfy one so far.”

Somehow, they get the whole tale recounted to Alanna while she polishes off an impressive amount of food in the mess hall, and then they demand news of her. What had happened? She’d been called away to fight ogres in a nearby town, and then the next thing they’d known, there was a small army between Pirate’s Swoop and Alanna. And how had she acquired two companies of the King’s Own in the meantime?

All of them listen, enthralled, to her tale of fighting ogres, then finding herself trapped with no way back to the Swoop. Finally Hakim had found her, with two companies of the King’s Own in tow, and together they’d cut through the ranks separating them from the fort, until the soldiers had finally retreated, first under the onslaught, and then under orders. Thom and the twins are ever more in awe of their mother. Roald and Kally, who had arrived near the beginning of the tale, as well as several passerby who had drifted towards the conversation knot, look starstruck. Thayet is quite sure that she does not look unaffected either. 

There was always just something about Alanna. Of course, it helps that Alanna saved her, got her out of the civil war, and introduced her to the king who had become her husband. She’d even been kind and reassuring about her relationship with Jon, even though Jon was _her_ lover. Alanna had truly been a gift from the Goddess to Thayet in her moment of need, but even that wasn’t quite enough to explain what Alanna was to her.

Alanna was gorgeous, whether in fancy ball gowns with those amethyst earrings Thayet had given her to make her eyes pop, or in riding leathers, dusty and sweaty, hair askew and a wild grin on her flushed face. Alanna was stupidly brave, always ready to place herself between her friends and danger, and the fear she confessed to sometimes, late at night when no one could see her face, only made Thayet adore her that much achingly more. Alanna was stubborn and kind; she was unsubtle, sometimes even brash; she cared deeply about her friends; she believed in justice and equality and making the world a better place, even when Thayet lost hope and sight of her vision. Sometimes Thayet wonders how Alanna thinks her gorgeous, when it is Alanna who shines bright and kind and inspirational in her mind. She has no trouble understanding why both Jon and George were utterly in love with her.

Of course, things weren’t always perfect between them. Alanna would get simultaneously jealous of how beautiful Thayet looks in gowns and frustrated herself at the restrictions that wearing dresses places on her mobility; wrangling her before important diplomatic balls was a huge pain. Thayet understood better than Jon why Alanna needed to wander, find adventure and be away for weeks if not months at a time; still, it drove her mad with worry when she was away on some of her longer escapades. 

But it worked, this thing between them. George was there, with his steady faith that Alanna would return, his grounding, distracting presence, mischievous eyes alight with understanding; and Jon, even though he could be manipulative and too focused on himself or other things to notice other people’s feelings, had such a huge capacity for love, whether it be love for his wife or his champion (and perhaps even his spymaster - she wonders if that had been what she’d seen in his gaze, in the way he held onto George’s arm, last time George had been in the capital, if the attraction and kinship had finally built into something more), or for his people. George was always a fun break from Jon’s intensity, and Jon and she both got to express their deep adoration for Alanna. 

Jon and Alanna’s relationship contained the most friction, without a doubt. They squabbled often, over both public and personal affairs, perceived or real slights, different perspectives and approaches. Those were the times when they refuse to see each other for days on end, and she and George just rolled their eyes and nodded at the angry rants, long past worrying that these arguments would seriously damage their relationship. It’d be awful if they were married; as it is, they can fight, retreat to their respective spaces and marriages to cool off, finally talk it over and come to a compromise and reconciliation. And yeah, the makeup sex really is great.

Inviting Alanna and George into their bed that day hadn’t been a selfish or selfless action. It had just been the obvious one. Jon still loved Alanna, and could love George; Thayet loved Alanna, and found George rakish and easy on the eyes; Alanna loved all three of them. It had just all added up and made sense.

Now, Alanna finishes her tale of daring and heroism and flashes a grin at Thayet, knowing exactly what effect such tales have on her. 

“But now,” she says, “I require sleep in my own bed. Run along, you scamps.” 

Obediently, most of her admirers move on, resuming their tasks. Roald, Kally, and Thom take the twins back to the nursery, with a maturity and responsibility Thayet will have to remember to praise them for. Soon only the three of them are left. Alanna stands, stretching. The chainmail jingles, and Thayet realizes with a jolt that Alanna had been recounting her tale in the heavy metal the whole time, and that she must surely be exhausted and sore and want to crawl into bed immediately and sleep for three days.

The grin Alanna flashes them is anything but tired.

“So, who wants to help me take off all these layers?” she asks with a wink, and Thayet and George are helpless to do anything but follow, like moths flitting to the flame.

* * *

4.

Jon and Alanna don’t talk for a month after the king agrees to let Lord Wyldon have a yearlong probation period for Keladry’s knight training. 

She keeps the word she gave him at the end of the conversation: she finds work away from Corus. She heads to Pirate’s Swoop and stays there for some time, complaining to George until his understanding nods and sympathetic words gain a hint of irritation and he starts pointing out how as king, Jon’s actions strike a good balance between advancing a progressive agenda and appeasing the conservatives who won’t be happy with the idea of another lady knight, and maybe she should find something to whack before her anger explodes?

When news comes from a nearby village of spidren attacking, she takes the hint and rides out, joining a company of the King’s Own and venting her frustrations by hitting some Immortals with a sword - hard. The anger simmers down after that, just a bit. Enough that she can recognize that Jon’s actions make sense, not enough to forgive him yet. She rides home to her husband and is grateful, yet again, that he knows her well enough not to comment on how the sharp edges of her anger have been blunted. Over dinner, he points out that while Jon forbade her to have any contact with Keladry, well, it’s not like they can stop the girl from receiving packages from anonymous benefactors, can they? And surely Alanna, as the first Lady Knight, has some ideas about what disadvantages a girl might face in knight training, and what tools could best serve her.

She returns to Corus after that. She still has duties there, after all; as the King’s Champion, she can’t stay away from the capital as long as she might wish sometimes. She sees Jon in meetings with his other councillors, but refuses to see him in private. He tries to talk to her, she knows it. At the end of one meeting, he calls out, “Alanna! Stay-” but she pretends not to hear as she walks out the room. 

Thayet comes to her. Jon’s a twat, she laughingly acknowledges, and Alanna goes into the same rant she’d rehashed so many times to George. Thayet listens and nods. By the time she’s done, the last bit of anger has seeped out of her and she just feels tired. 

“It’s not fair. It just isn’t. Why can men just - just do what they like, when we have to do twice as much, do everything better, just to be allowed to do it?” she complains, and even though she feels like a child again, complaining about the injustice of the world, it feels good to talk about it with someone who understands. 

Thayet takes her hand, deceptively smooth ivory against calloused palms, and squeezes, and says nothing. 

Still, she doesn’t speak to Jon. The anger is gone, but the hurt she’d hidden with it has now surfaced, and she doesn’t want to face him. After his attempts at talking with her have failed, he keeps his distance too. They don’t talk for months, and the four of them all feel the strain of it. George and Thayet are caught in the middle. George loves his wife, and has grown to love Jon too, but his priority has always been to provide a space where Alanna will always feel comfortable and at home. His meetings with Jon are brief, even if privately his experiences as king have him sympathizing with Jon’s decision. Thayet is angry with Jonathan too, but she does not have the luxury of being able to run away from the capital, from her marriage, and she does not quite have the personal stake in the matter that Alanna does. She is angry with him for awhile, and angry at him in particular on Alanna’s behalf; but eventually he grovels enough and takes her to see Keladry training alongside all the other pages, and the sharpness of her words with him fades. 

A year later, and Alanna’s stomach is in knots. She swears the feeling is worse than the day of her Ordeal; after all, that had been for her own sake, not the sake of an entire generation of future lady knights. There has been no unrest or trouble nearby lately. George has holed up in his office, “away from your pacing,” he said, so she can’t even use him as a distraction from her anxiety. It seems like she’s been waiting for a whole other year before she finally gets the message: Keladry has passed. She is finally a full-fledged squire. 

The relief is enough to make her giddy. For a while, she almost can’t believe it; then, the excitement takes over and she wants to shout, or scream, or cry; she wants to ride out this minute and shake the girl’s hand; she wants to find the best quality sword she can find and send it to her this minute. Keladry is a page! A real page! And given her dedication and the effort she has put into her training so far, there’s no doubt she’ll become a knight. A knight! Another female knight! She will no longer be the only one, an oddity the nobles conceal their smiles over; soon, more women will become knight, until it’s commonplace for a knight to swoop in and be the hero and take off their helmet and turn out to be a woman. Sir Keladry. She can’t wait to hear the name. 

George comes to find her like that, too dazed with excitement to actually do anything. He takes one look at her and gathers her up in his arms. It takes Alanna a moment to realize that she’s crying into his embrace. The tears stream down her face, unbidden. It doesn’t make sense. She’s happy. She’s happy, right? So why is she crying?

“Shh, there, there, it’s okay,” George mutters, stroking his hands through her hair. “It’s okay, she did it, you did it. Both of you have done so well, you’ve been so brave. I know it’s been hard and a constant worry and it’s okay, it’s over now. Well, she still has to actually win her shield, but she’s made it. You’re not the only one anymore… Shh, it’s okay.” 

She cries until finally the tears stop. Her nose is dripping, her eyes puffy, and George’s shirt is soaked through. She steps back from his hug and looks up at him. He smiles.

“Feel a bit better now?” he asks. She wipes her nose with her sleeve and gives a hoarse laugh. She feels completely drained, but it’s a good kind of drained, like she can finally start to heal. 

“A bit.”

She stays a bit longer at Pirate’s Swoop, and George is careful with her again, like the time she’d come to him after she’d turned down Jon’s proposal of marriage. There’s something nostalgic about that, and she wants to bask in it awhile longer. She loves this man. He knows her so well by now, knows when to provide a comforting word or encourage her to go whack something with a sword. He’s made this place for her, this smuggler’s cove turned into a home for her. A home, not a prison; for so many years she’d feared marrying, thinking that marriage would be a chain to keep her in place and force her to be something she wasn’t. Instead George has created this place for her to come back to, whenever she wanted; a place to feel safe in, to recover from her adventures and find her loved ones waiting for her. 

When she finally saddles up to ride to Corus, George is waiting for her in the stables. She doesn’t know whether to smile or grimace at him; he really does know her too well. 

“Do you want to come with me?” she asks. If he came, she wouldn’t have to do this on her own. He’d be a bit of a buffer between them, make things less awkward… George doesn’t move.

“You don’t need me there,” he answers, giving her a hand with the bridle. And he’s right, she doesn’t. And the very fact that she’s scared of this makes her want to face it on her own all the more. He really does know her too well.

She kisses him, lightly at first, laughing against his lips when he deepens it. The kiss is familiar, the way he leans into it, always just a little bit desperate for the proof of her affection; the way his breath hitches just a bit when she bites down on his lip. He finally draws back, pushing her away a bit.

“Away with you, before I’m tempted to keep you here any longer!” he says with a wink, and Alanna laughs. The fondness that wells up in her for him keeps her warm the entire trip to the capital. 

Corus is bustling with life, and she breathes in the smell of it, glad that the knot in her stomach every time she’d visited the capital in the last year had finally dissolved. She makes her way to the palace. Jonathan is in his office, in conversation with Thayet. She hears their voices behind the door, one low and smooth, charming, the other higher and more melodic, pleasingly accented. She knocks.

“Come in,” the king shouts out. She pushes the door open.

“Hello,” she says, a little breathless. Jonathan gets to his feet in a hurry, almost knocking over some of the papers on his desk. This is the first time in a year that she has come into his office, preferring to only attend meetings if they occurred in a more public area. 

“Alanna!” He strides over to her, arms outstretched to give her a hug, but stops before he reaches her. He stands there, hands still somewhat upraised, with a forlorn look in his eyes. 

“Oh, come here, you idiot.” With that, she steps towards him and wraps him in her arms. 

“You’re a twat,” she says after a few moments of silence. She feels him nod against her shoulder. “And an idiot, and I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven you yet.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers. “And I wouldn’t have done anything different, and it’s not fair. But I am sorry.” 

She lets the words wash over her. 

“You’re still an idiot.”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” he acknowledges, and something in her, that tiny part of her that can’t help but sometimes wish that he could choose her over his duty, finally goes quiet.

They finally let go, and Alanna steps back to notice that Thayet is gone. They meet each other’s eyes, and finally laugh a little. The laughter fades, and Jon is looking at her with that quiet intensity that has never failed to make butterflies dance in her stomach. (Admittedly, sometimes those butterflies were much less than others. And sometimes she resented that he could still make her feel that way.) 

“May I?” he asks, and she nods.

It’s been a while since it’s been just the two of them. Usually at least one of George and Thayet are there, smoothing out the ragged edges of the hurt on both sides, that a kingdom that the both of them loved had to lie between them. He’s careful at first, like he needs to show her just how much she appreciates her, like the slightest rough touch will drive her away again. In contrast, she’s angry, biting his lip and scratching his back until finally he gives in to her, lets her drag him in and kiss the hurt away. 

* * *

5.

They weather the years together, the wars and the chaos and the fights. Sometimes Jon and Alanna don’t speak to each other for months on end, and they splinter off into two more separate couples. Sometimes Alanna and George quarrel. On one memorable occasion Thayet blows up at her husband and runs away to Pirate’s Swoop for as long as she can get away with. 

Sometimes, all four of them have sex. More often than not, some combination of the four of them have sex; after all, they are rarely all in the same place at the same time, called away to their various duties. Jonathan rarely leaves Corus, and George is responsible for raising their kids in Pirate’s Swoop; they see each for the least lengths of time, getting away with short visits between king and spymaster that occasionally turn into something more. Thayet and Alanna get to travel the most. Often, it is Thayet joining them in Pirate’s Swoop, or Alanna joining Jonathan and Thayet in Corus. 

It’s not perfect, by any means. In spite of their best efforts, jealousy still rears its head on occasion. Watching Jon and Alanna together, the familiar way they touch each other, sometimes it feels like there’s a bond between them, shutting others out; sometimes Thayet feels like she can’t overcome the fact that they were to some extent each other’s firsts, and that they will always have something between them that she could touch. Knowing that she has formed her own bond with each of them doesn’t always relieve that worry. George still sometimes can’t forgive Jon, for having the throne, for hurting Alanna. Jonathan still sometimes can’t forgive George for marrying Alanna. Alanna still runs away from it all sometimes; still spends months away on adventures while the three of them are left behind to worry. But they come back to each other, every time. They hold each other and protect each other and care for each other. Together, they look towards the future they want to build. It’s not perfect, by any means; but it is them, and it is good.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic published on AO3, and has been in the writing process for about the past three years until I finally decided, fuck it, I'll just publish it. For some reason the idea of the four of them being emotionally and physically intimate after their respective marriages just stuck with me; and I couldn't find anything of the sort already published, so I figured I'd try to write my own. I tried to get all of the plot points and relationship dynamics between the four of them that fascinate me in there. If you have an idea of something you'd like to see in this fic concept, let me know in the comments.
> 
> I apologize to any mathematicians for the misuse of the word permutations. I am terrible at coming up with fic titles.


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